by M. H. Soars
“I’m sure you can get your job back if you explain that you were sick,” I say.
She snaps her gaze to mine, leveling me with a glare. “You heard all that?”
“Kind of hard not to.”
“Jonas won’t give me my job back. I missed a couple of shifts without a good explanation in the past. This was the last straw.” She takes a seat next to me on the couch and stares at the ceiling. “I guess I need to look for a new job. Crap. I so do not have the time for this shit.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and give it a light squeeze. She stiffens and remains tense until I speak again. “You’ll get another job. Uh, what exactly did you do?”
She pulls away from me and I let her. I shouldn’t have given her a hug anyway. We’re not there, yet.
“Waitressing. It’s the only thing that allows me a flexible schedule to practice and the pay doesn’t suck too much.”
I try to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m reeling. I’ve been nasty to servers in the past for no good reason, I’ve left restaurants without giving a tip. In a nutshell, I’ve been an asshole to someone like Saylor who needs the money to survive and I never once lost sleep over it. Now, I’m ashamed and I’m also fucking pissed that someone like me might have done the same to her. I’m a loaded van of contradictions.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, much. Thanks for letting me crash in your bed.”
“My bed is at your disposal any time. I would prefer to join you next time, though.”
“Pig.” She punches my arm playfully and with that response, she shocks the hell out of me. Without skipping a beat, she stands up and retrieves her purse from the table. “I gotta go. Do you think you can get the front desk to call me a cab?”
“A cab? What kind of nonsense is that? I’ll drive you.” I’m already standing up, looking for my wallet and key fob.
“You’ve done enough.”
“I’m driving you, so don’t waste your breath arguing with me.”
I stare hard at her, letting Saylor know that she can’t win this.
The drive is quiet. I want to broach the subject of her migraines, but it feels like I’m overstepping. True, I always overstep with this girl, but there’s a big difference between teasing her about our sexual tension and asking her about her health issues. I keep stealing glances at her to make sure she’s not about to pass out again.
We’re almost at her place when her phone begins to ring the theme of Jaws. Saylor stares at the screen for several seconds, frozen. I glance at the device and see the name Connor flashing in the screen. A spear of jealousy slices through me so suddenly, that I almost rear-end the car in front of me.
“Are you going to get that?” I snap.
Shit, I sounded liked a caveman.
Saylor doesn’t look at me, but her jaw is clenched tight. Way to go, Oliver. She finally presses the green button and puts the phone against her ear.
“Hey, Connor.”
The radio is on, but the sound is low, so I can hear everything the guy says.
“I was afraid you weren’t going to answer.”
“What do you want, Connor?” Her clipped reply makes me feel a little bit better.
“Listen, I’m stuck at work and I’ve been trying to reach Mandy all day. I won’t be home until later in the evening. Could you drop by to check if everything is okay? I’m worried. It’s not like her to ignore my calls.”
Saylor’s posture changes. She sits up straighter and her eyebrows furrow. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”
She ends the call and nibbles on her lower lip.
“Is everything okay?”
She looks at me then, her beautiful aquamarine blue eyes filled with worry. “I need to check on my friend. Do you mind if we make a detour? Her house is not far from my new place.”
“Not a problem.” I pause for a second before I add, “Who was that Connor guy? You didn’t sound too happy to talk to him.” I try to sound nonchalant, but I’m sure Saylor can see right through me.
“My former neighbor. Mandy’s older brother. He asked me to check on her.”
He might only be her ex-neighbor now, but I’m sure they were more than that in the past. The knowledge shouldn’t bother me. It’s clear that Saylor doesn’t want any contact with the guy. So how come I’m suffering from a major case of retroactive jealousy?
Ten
SAYLOR
My stomach is in knots by the time we arrive at Mandy’s. The gnawing worry is enough to put my own personal problems in the backburner. Oliver parks right under the oak tree that provides shade to the Fraser’s curb and front lawn. I spare a quick glance at Mom’s house and notice the absence of her car. One less thing to stress about. Mandy’s car, on the other hand, is parked in her driveway.
I ring the doorbell several times and when nobody answers, my preoccupation increases tenfold. Sure, the fact that Mandy’s car is here doesn’t mean that she is. She could have gone out with someone. But my sixth sense is telling me that is not the case. I learned many years ago to always trust my instincts. If I had said something back then… No, I can’t let my mind play those dangerous what-ifs games. It leads nowhere.
Oliver waits patiently by my side without saying a word. I’m thankful for that. He seems to get that now is not the time for inappropriate comments.
I decide to use the spare key to Mandy’s house. When I push the door open, I call out her name and still get no response. But I can hear the distinct sound of the TV. I find Mandy in the living room sprawled on the couch. Her long red hair covers her face and the way her right arm dangles from the sofa paints an ugly picture in my head. It’s like she just passed out like that.
“Shit!” Oliver says and I don’t understand his reaction until my gaze drops to the floor and I see an open orange plastic bottle with half its content gone.
I don’t move, I don’t speak, I just stand there like a statue, my mind having an out-of-body experience. I know what this looks like, but I refuse to believe it. I see the almost empty bottle of whiskey on the side table and my tongue becomes thick in my mouth, my heart races, I begin to panic. Mandy, what have you done?
Oliver walks past me and leans over my friend’s prone form. He brushes her hair off of her face and checks her pulse.
“She’s breathing, but I’m afraid we don’t have much time.”
He scoops her up in his arms and I finally break from my frozen state. “What are you doing?”
“We need to take her to the hospital.”
He doesn’t wait for my approval; he just keeps going until we’re outside again. I follow him with my heart in my throat. I can’t lose Mandy, not like this.
I’m operating in automated mode. I open the backseat door and slide in before Oliver places Mandy there with her head on my lap. She looks so pale, it’s like she’s already gone.
A couple of seconds later, the car jumps to life and we’re moving. I don’t look up, I don’t give Oliver directions to the nearest hospital. All I can do is stare at my friend, the girl who paid the ultimate price for my silence all those years ago. I don’t realize I’m crying until my tear drops land on Mandy’s hair.
Guilt mixes with my despair. I knew that Mandy suffered from PTSD, but I never noticed any signs that she was suicidal. How could I have missed it? This is all my fucking fault. I was supposed to look after her. I owed it to her. I should have moved in with her when she asked.
“How much further?” I say.
“According to the GPS, we are five minutes away.”
“Five minutes, Mandy. Did you hear that? Hang in there. Please.”
OLIVER
Fuck if hearing the hopelessness in Saylor’s voice doesn’t make something in me break right then and there. It propels unwanted memories right up to the surface, memories and feelings that I’ve tried so fucking hard to forget. I don’t want her to go through what I’ve been through.
I’m already driving like a maniac, and I’m sure I could hav
e made it to the hospital much faster if I knew the way. I hate relying on GPS. Still, I stomp on the pedal, making it to the final destination in less than the five minutes predicated by the machine after I run a red light.
I’m out of the car in a flash and I scoop Saylor’s friend up in my arms again. Saylor follows closely behind as we burst through the emergency room’s waiting area together.
“We need help,” I say to the nurse stationed behind the front desk.
She first looks at Mandy in my arms, but when her gaze lands on my face, I know she recognizes me. Great. I’m sure the tabloids will have a field day at my expense, spinning this in a way that it will make it my fault. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t be so worried about it.
The woman calls for assistance and soon Mandy is taken out of my arms. We follow the gurney with Mandy on it, but once the doctor takes her into one of the partitions, we are told to wait outside.
“What’s going to happen?” Saylor asks.
“They’re probably going to pump her stomach.”
“This is all my fault.” Saylor dips her chin and covers her eyes with her hands.
I touch her arm. “How is this your fault?”
She shakes her head and takes a step back. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but she has clammed up. She has secrets. I get it. I have my own demons that I fight every day. But I still want to help Saylor somehow.
“Do you want me to call her brother?”
“No. I’ll do it.”
She walks to the waiting area in the hallway and takes a seat. I stay behind, not knowing what to do. This situation is all too familiar. I remember standing in a sterile hospital hallway a few years back, waiting to hear if my best friend was going to survive or not. I can’t believe I’m reliving a similar moment again. I felt like the worst friend in the world for letting Sebastian drink to the point of almost killing himself. The feeling then was justified. I could have stopped him, but I didn’t. I’m failing to see how it can be Saylor’s fault that her friend tried to kill herself. I’m missing a key piece of Saylor’s story here.
By the time Mandy’s brother arrives at the hospital, we already know that Mandy is out of the woods. She will be okay. The guy is a mess when he bursts through the sliding doors. But even in his worried state, I don’t miss the evil glare he aims my way. Get your fucking priorities straight, wanker.
“Where is she?” he asks Saylor.
She gives him the number of Mandy’s room and once he disappears down the hallway, she turns to me.
“You don’t need to keep me company anymore. I’ll catch a ride with Connor.”
“It’s no burden. I’m happy to stay.”
“No, Oliver. Really. I would prefer if you left.”
I almost wince. That last remark felt like a punch in my gut.
“Sure. If that’s what you want.”
I walk away and don’t look back, more to prove to myself that I have some dignity left than anything else.
Eleven
SAYLOR
I’m numb, I’m breaking inside. I just stare ahead at the white wall, trying to convince myself that I’m not in the waiting area of a hospital, that the scent reaching my nose is not a mix of ammonia and sickness. I hate hospitals and with my track record, it’s not hard to understand why. I spent weeks in one, confined to a bed while doctors tried to mend my body. That had been the easiest part. My mind however, that couldn’t be fixed.
I had to send Oliver away. I couldn’t let him see me in this weakened state. Call it pride or self-preservation. He had seen enough. My body betrayed me in front of him and there was nothing I could do about it. He didn’t need to see me crumble, too.
“What happened?” Connor asks once he joins me in the waiting area, breaking me out of my trance.
Looking at the anger simmering in Connor’s eyes, it almost feels like he’s accusing me of something.
“You know what happened. Didn’t the doctor fill you in?”
“He did, but…why? I don’t understand.”
Oh, Connor. I wish I could tell you.
Col. Jessup from A Few Good Men was right. Some people can’t handle the truth. Not that Connor is a weak person. On the contrary. He’s one of the strongest people I know. His parents died when he was young and he was forced to grow up too fast. He took it upon himself to be the head of the house, even though he still had his grandmother, who raised him and Mandy. But his sister is his weak spot, his Achilles’ heel, the only thing that can bring him down to his knees. His devotion to her is what attracted me to him in the first place, despite our many differences.
I was right to do what I did. The thought doesn’t ease my guilty conscience, though.
“I don’t either,” I answer his loaded question. “We came into the house and found her on the sofa passed out.”
Connor grinds his jaw and curls his hands into fists.
“Why was he here? Did you call him?”
Wait. What? Did he actually ask me about Oliver? I’m too stunned and it takes me a minute to answer.
“He was driving me home when I got your call.”
He turns to me and his dark blue eyes are thunderous. “Are you two dating?”
I cannot believe Connor is actually more concerned about my love life than his sister’s condition. The surprise wears off and it’s replaced by pure anger.
“Are you for real? Your sister almost fucking died, Connor.”
Shame seems to take over his expression. At least, I hope it’s shame since he can’t hold my gaze, choosing to stare at the linoleum floor instead.
“I’m sorry. Fuck.” He drops his elbows to his legs and leans forward, hiding his head between his shoulders. “Why would Mandy do that? Do you think she…” he pauses as his voice gets choked up. He turns his face in my direction, his eyes now bright with unshed tears. I’ve never seen him so broken.
He doesn’t need to finish that question, though. I know where his train of thought is going. Did Mandy try to kill herself? I want to say no, the truth is too ugly, but all signs point to it. You just don’t wash down a bunch of painkillers with a bottle of whiskey by accident. But the worst of all, the thing that has been eating me alive since I found her in that awful state, is that I know the reason she wanted out and I didn’t see it coming.
“I don’t know, Connor.” It’s all I can say. It’s a cowardly answer, a cop out. He doesn’t sense the lie. Connor has always been oblivious to subtle signs. Or maybe he just sees and hears what he wants to. Selective perception.
“Connor, can I ask you a favor?” I ask after a while.
“Of course.”
“I would like to speak with Mandy alone when she wakes up.”
Mistrust flashes in his eyes as he narrows his gaze at me. “Why?”
“Because I think Mandy will clam up with you. You want to help her, right?” I’m so full of shit. I don’t want him around because I need to know if Mandy remembers the worst days of our lives.
“You’re probably right. God, I’ve been a shitty brother. Maybe if I didn’t work so hard, she wouldn’t have...”
I touch his arm, offering him comfort. It’s a dangerous move. I don’t want him to mistake the gesture for a sign that I still care about him. But I take the risk because I hate to see him bring himself down like that. Connor does work hard, always has. He wants more out of life for him and his sister and nobody can fault him for that. And now that his grandmother is sick, his burden has increased by tenfold.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing the best that you can. How about you go home and I spend the night with Mandy?”
“No, I should stay here.”
“Connor, you look like you haven’t slept in days. Mandy will be okay. I promise you.” I feel awful for promising something I’m not sure I can deliver. I have no idea how I’m going to help her. “You should go visit your grandmother. How long has it been since you last saw her?”
&n
bsp; I hate to play the sick grandmother card, but I really need to convince Connor to leave.
Mrs. Fraser was diagnosed with dementia six months ago and last month, Connor had finally managed to save enough money to pay for a good assisted living facility. No wonder it looks like he has aged ten years overnight.
He glances up the ceiling and exhales loudly. “Fuck. It seems I can’t catch a break.” He pulls his cell phone out before he rises from the chair. “I’ve missed visiting hours, but I’ll make sure to go see her first thing in the morning before I come here. Are you sure you don’t mind spending the night?”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
I can’t sleep to save my life and not because the couch in Mandy’s room is as hard as a surfboard. I’m plagued with memories—memories I’ve tried so hard to suppress for all these years. Mandy’s fearsome expression, all the blood, and his face, his putrid face.
I throw my legs to the side of the couch and sit up, letting my head fall between my sagged shoulders.
“Saylor?” Mandy’s soft voice calls me from the bed.
I stand up and go to her. “Hey, baby girl.”
Mandy’s gaze bounces around as she tries to figure out where she is.
“We’re in the hospital. You scared us to death.” I grab her cold hand and fight to keep the tears at bay. I have to be strong for her.
“I-I’m so sorry.” She closes her eyes and twists her face as if she’s in pain. I never had my stomach pumped so I’m not sure if she is, or if the distressed expression is due to her inner turmoil.
“Me too. I…” I trail off not knowing what to say.
“It wasn’t your fault. What happened was an accident. I didn’t try to kill myself.”
“Mandy, I’m not judging you.”
Her fingers squeeze mine. “I know. I just don’t want you to feel an ounce of guilt. I’m stressed about Grandma and school is kicking my butt. I’ve been having trouble sleeping so I got a prescription for it.”
“What about the bottle of whiskey?”
